


The Guardian

by Jathis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Boy Scouts, Fluff, Gen, Protection, Skinning, feral earl harlan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Scoutmaster never forgets his Scouts. Nor does he ever stop really caring about children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic based on Feral Earl by Videntefernandez

All boys were expected to earn their “Survived A Night Out In The Desert With Nothing But A Butter Knife” once they reached the age of eleven. Granted most of them ended up dying hideously or disappearing from Night Vale forever but rules were rules and the Boy Scouts of America could not afford to loosen them up for anyone. Besides, weeding out the weak ensured that the entire group became stronger and the parents were given the proper reparations for their dead sons. Anybody who still complained about it was probably some kind of weird tree hugger or something and nobody likes those kinds of people anyway.

The small Scout named Alex shivered in the cold, helplessly reaching out and toying with some of the sticks he had managed to gather during the daytime. His stomach was growling and chastising him for being unable to catch anything to eat and his head was feeling dizzy from lack of anything to drink. He had tried sucking on the stone to get some moisture in his mouth but he had been forced to stop when the stone suddenly came to life and threatened to smash his teeth if he didn’t let it out of his mouth.

His hands were shaking too much for him to make the proper hand signs while chanting to make a fire spring to life. Alex let out a pathetic sob, pulling him up tight, hugging his knees to his chest as he pressed his face between them. He was fairly certain that one of the beasts who lived out here was stalking him and he was terrified of dying out here. He wanted to go home but he knew what would happen if he came back before the sunrise and he was terrified and his stomach hurt and everything just  _hurt_  and he just…

The sound of a loud thud made him gasp and lift up his head, searching in the darkness for his butter knife, feeling unbelievably foolish. There was a figure in the darkness. The shape was hard to make out and he trembled as it started to creep closer to him, holding out his butter knife in a trembling hand, his brain too terrified to let him form any kind of actual words that could be understood.

And then suddenly there was a loud whoosh and there was a fire.

Alex winced at the sudden illumination, blinking rapidly to let his eyes adjust to it. He lowered his butter knife when he got a good look at his visitor, his eyes widening as he watched as the badly scarred up redheaded man dragged a dead cricket bear closer to the fire he had created. He had heard stories about the former Scoutmaster who lived out in the desert alone but he had never thought that he would actually  _see_  him let alone be  _visited_  by him.

Earl worked in silence, skinning the cricket bear with the combined use of his stone knife and his hands to rip the fur off of the flesh. He was careful to make sure that the pelt came off in one long piece and he glanced over at the young Scout when he was finished, looking him over with a critical eye.

The boy shouldn’t be out here by himself. He was too young and inexperienced for this. There should have been an older Scout following after them at least, hidden and out of sight to give the younger boy the illusion of being alone but without the risk of dying out here. That was how  _he_  had always done it anyway…not like this  _new_  Scoutmaster who let the boys die without shedding a tear for them.

One day Earl was going to tear that Scoutmaster’s throat out with his teeth.

With a soft grunt Earl held the pelt out to the young Scout, gesturing to his own pelt draped over his shoulders to show him what he needed to do to get warm. He smiled a little when the boy nervously did as he was told and he used his hands to tear into the flesh of the bear, ripping out the softest pieces of flesh, using his knife to cut them up into bite-sized pieces. When he was finished he placed these pieces onto a thin rock and he placed it close to the fire, allowing the meat to cook without the risk of burning.

“…Is that for me?” Alex ventured to ask, hugging the bloody pelt around himself. He flinched a little when Earl made eye contact with him, biting his lower lip as he shifted. “I…”

Earl’s scarred face softened and he offered him a smile as he nodded his head, pointing at the meat and making an eating gesture. With that he stood up, picking up the rest of his kill and throwing it over his shoulder, turning and starting to leave.

“Wait!” Alex called out. He blushed a little when the former Scoutmaster turned around to look at him, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. “…Thank you.”

Earl’s smile widened ever so slightly as he looked at the boy and he bowed his head a little before slipping away into the darkness, gone as fast as he had suddenly appeared.

The next day Alex earned two badges; the one he had originally gone out for and the “Encountered A Desert-Dweller” badge.


End file.
